


Worry

by anemptymargin



Category: actor rps, british actor rps
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-23
Updated: 2007-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a brief time Simon doesn't know where Nick is and it bothers him more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worry

**Author's Note:**

> For the fanfic100 challenge prompt 078. Where? Also a bit of an exercise to work on getting my narratives back in shape as they've been getting pretty horrible lately. Time line and my grid are [Here.](http://anemptymargin.livejournal.com/96928.html)

It had been a dreadfully unproductive day; ten hours and far more tea than any pair of human beings should ever drink of their own free will had yielded no more than a couple of scenes that would most likely have to be completely rewritten or scrapped altogether. Normally writing with Jess was such a dream, but for Simon it had been a chore just to get out of bed that morning. It was like a sixth sense or something - the lead ball in the pit of his belly telling him that the whole day was just going to be utter shite. So far it hadn't let him down.

"Sure you're feeling alright?" Jess smiled softly, nudging him with her elbow.

He let out a slight groan, realizing he'd been staring out the window at nothing in particular, thinking about being anywhere else but that stuffy office. "Mmm. Yeah. Just a hundred years away." He chuckled dryly, licking his lips. "Sorry."

"New girlfriend?" She nodded knowingly, taking a long drink off her mug.

"Mmm, no." Simon shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "Just a little tired is all."

She laughed, "Uh huh. Right... I know that look, Simon. That is a look of a man with his mind firmly planted between the sheets." She raised an eyebrow, "If you don't want to share your secrets, I suppose I understand." She added a flair of mock jealousy.

"I haven't got none." Simon felt himself blushing turned his head away. "Just thinking about things, you know?"

"I have yet to meet a man that doesn't have secrets, Simon. I doubt you'll be the first." She jabbed at him with a red marker, purposefully missing. "Any way, it's getting late. Need a lift?"

"No, Nick's meeting me down the street after he gets off for the night." Simon nodded, pushing up from his seat to help her collect the various scraps of edits and ideas they'd cobbled together.

"That's sweet. You two spend a lot of time together." Jess shoved a neatly stacked sheaf of pages in her binder.

Simon shrugged, the comment sinking in just a little. He supposed they did spend a bit of time together - he enjoyed spending time with Nick... and not only on the occasions they got a bit more friendly than friends. "Nothing weird about it."

"No, not at all. It's nice to see guys that can be friends like that. It's the nineties now, nothing weird about it."

Simon dropped the subject and finished collecting his notes, getting everything prepared for the next day's work before heading down to the pub to wait for Nick's shift to end. It had become a bit of a routine when they were working close enough hours - when he didn't head up to Chiquitos to wait.

He sat near the front window, watching the foot traffic slow as the day's gloomy overtones turned into rain. He couldn't explain the almost overwhelming sensation that the day was only going to get worse. As he finished his second pint and realized that Nick was well over an hour late, and then the paranoia began to set in.

His first thought was to call over to the flat. Maybe he had gone home to change his clothes or had forgotten even - but there was no answer. After the thirtieth ring he ordered another pint and tried not to think about where Nick might have gotten off to.

People were late all the time; it shouldn't be any sort of issue that he was late. Simon looked out the front window again, trying to hold back the thought that it was dark and wet and probably just a bit treacherous to be out driving. "Get a grip on yourself, old man," He mumbled to himself, lighting a fag.

Half a pack and two more pints later he was genuinely worried. He'd called the flat twice with no response before breaking down and looking up the restaurant to see what time Nick had gotten off. Unfortunately, he couldn't get past the surly hostess who insisted that if she couldn't see him, he wasn't there, but couldn't say when he left or find someone who could. He'd moved from their usual table to one much closer to the door - shifting his attention from the window looking out over the street back to the door each time it creaked open. Nick was three hours late and the sour feeling in Simon's gut was beginning to tell him that his paranoia was on to something.

Briefly he considered asking around about any traffic accidents, but as he made his way back up the bar the heavy door swung open again. "You fucking bastard, where the hell have you been?" Simon turned around quickly, meeting him halfway in the somewhat crowded pub.

"Where do you think?" Nick leaned in closer, reeking of the particular eau de restaurant - grease and peppers with a nice dash of sweat. "Got held over."

"I was worried sick about you! I called a few times and they said you'd probably gone already," Simon grumbled, pulling away when he felt Nick's hands on his forearms, directing him towards a table where they could talk somewhat more candidly. "You could have called or maybe told me you were going to be working late!"

"I told you this morning." Nick gave up getting a table and pushed forwards, towards the bar. "You said it was alright."

Simon followed close behind, "No you didn't!"

"I did! Right after breakfast I got out of the shower and told you I might have to stay after." Nick pressed a tenner to the bar and nodded to the bartender. "Two bitters, please."

Simon stopped himself, trying to think back to that morning. He had been a bit distracted; hadn't slept well even. "No, I distinctly remember this morning, you didn't say a word about working over."

"I did so and you even said that you would spend all day thinking about it just so you wouldn't forget." Nick pressed another beer into Simon's hand, offering him a smile. "I knew you were gonna forget."

"I didn't forget." Simon found an empty table and sat down heavily, feeling just the slightest bit of relief as the knot in his gut began to unwind. He couldn't say why exactly, but he felt better just knowing that everything was alright.

"It's alright." Nick grinned, lighting a cigarette before taking a long drink. "Not like I expect you to think about me all day or something."

Had he? He'd certainly been preoccupied enough but it was hard to say with what exactly. It was possible that he'd been trying to work things out; they'd certainly been a little out of sorts. "You still should have called me."

"I'm sorry." Nick looked down into his glass. "I didn't mean to upset things."

Simon was quiet a long moment, realizing he must sound like a complete twat. "No, it's my fault. I was just distracted this morning. I've got a lot on my mind." He shook his head, the excuse sounding flimsy even as he said it.

"Right." Nick nodded, taking a long drag and letting it out with a slight grunt. "It don't matter now, does it? Let's just get on with it."

Simon nodded, licking his lips and quickly halving his beer. "Yeah, right. We should be getting home then."

***  
End  
***

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work.


End file.
